One Last Time
by AislingK
Summary: Jen and Gibbs replay roles from a long-past relationship. Tag to Kill Ari. Warning: Contains spanking and a D/s theme.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: One Last Time

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to Donald Bellisario, and I hope he won't mind that I continue to borrow them for my own amusement.

**Warnings**: This story contains the **spanking** of an adult, as well a **D/s theme** (mild as these things go, but still present). There is no sex in the story, but there is a vaguely sexual undertone to the relationship. There is also (extremely limited) coarse language. If any or all of these things bother you, please either don't read this fiction, or at least refrain from telling me about your displeasure.

* * *

_A/N: This story is tagged to the Season 3 opening episode Kill Ari – Part I. It references the conversation between Jen and Gibbs when she is introduced to him in MTAC as the new NCIS director, as well as the continuation of that dialogue on the stairs. However, beyond this I've pretty much ignored the timeline of the episode. In particular, it's best to not try to fit this story around the scene in Gibbs' basement where they discuss his boats and ex-wives, or any other Gibbs/Jen interactions in the Kill-Ari double episode. Since the entire premise of my story requires some significant suspension of disbelief anyways, I've chosen to take such liberties with the canon in order to write an alternate follow-up interaction for them as I see fit._

* * *

"_On the job, you'll address me as Director Shepard or ma'am_," she'd said. Of course, she'd meant it, and it wasn't the first time she'd had to clarify the expectations of her authority to a male subordinate. As she'd worked her way up the NCIS hierarchy, there had been plenty of instances where she was spoken to in a manner that she found unacceptable – sometimes the offender was making a deliberate mockery of the presence of a woman in a senior position, while other times it was mere thoughtlessness by an agent too comfortable with the status quo. But this hadn't been a careless slip-up by a junior agent. This had been Gibbs.

"_On the job, you'll address me as Director Shepard or ma'am_." As she'd admonished him, Jen was well aware that nothing Jethro said or did around her was accidental. Gibbs didn't believe in accidents any more than he believed in coincidences. Calling her by her first name, not once but three times, was very much a conscious choice on his part. But Jen knew that Jethro wasn't a chauvinist, not at work and not outside the office. Gibbs treated the women he worked with equitably, and although there had never been a female director of NCIS, Jen didn't doubt that Gibbs had no inherent problems reporting to someone of the opposite gender. No, he'd used her first name to provoke her on a much more personal level.

"_On the job, you'll address me as Director Shepard or ma'am_," Jen had informed him icily. She had perfected the cool director's voice for just such situations. Or, more accurately, for such situations with _other people_. But Jethro Gibbs wasn't other people to her, and he knew that. Jen was acutely aware that Gibbs would know quite clearly what memories would be stirred up inside her when she saw him in MTAC after all these years had passed. The scenes had been playing in her mind for days in anticipation of meeting Gibbs again in these reversed roles, and she was determined to make it clear that their former relationship was firmly in the past, and that she took her new position very seriously. She would not allow her authority at work to be compromised by any sort of frivolous liaisons outside of the office.

Thus she had intended her instruction, "_On the job, you'll address me as Director Shepard or ma'am_," to be taken quite literally. But even as she spoke the words, her stomach tightened, because she knew they would both hear another instruction in their minds when she said it.

"_In this room, you'll address me as 'sir'_."

The title had been chosen deliberately because they both knew how much Gibbs hated being called 'sir' at work. Referring to him in that way ensured that there would be no confusion between their roles in the outside world, and the roles they chose to assume when they entered that space. It wasn't the entirety of their intimate relationship, but it had been an integral part of their lives together at that time, in that place. And when they parted ways, it was the absence of that aspect of her bond with Jethro that caused the greatest void inside of her. She had never recreated that sort of relationship with any man that she became involved with after him. There had never been anyone she could trust to respect the boundaries that Gibbs had – to take her where she needed to go when they were alone, to allow her to be vulnerable in this confined environment, and then to be her partner – in all respects – when the sun came up.

She called him on her personal cell. It was new, and he wouldn't have the number yet. He'd recognize her, though. He always did.

"Gibbs." The greeting was abrupt, just as she remembered.

"I'm at home…" she faltered, her assuredness that this was what she wanted quickly draining away.

"Jen?"

"I want…I mean…I need…"

"Are you OK, Jen?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Jen wished she sounded more convincing. The conversation from this afternoon replayed one more time in her mind.

"_On the job, it is Director Shepard or ma'am."_

"_OK, what about off the job?"_

"_There won't be any off the job, Agent Gibbs."_

"_That's too bad. I missed you, Jen."_

She took a deep breath. "What you said on the stairs, about it being a shame that there would no…off the job…interactions…"

"I meant it, Jen."

She hesitated, but knew that it was now or never.

"I'm asking for one last time, Jethro."

There was silence on the other end. Shit. Fuck. She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lip hard. What the hell had she been thinking when she picked up the phone? Shit. Should she hang up? Apologize? Oh lord, this was so, so bad.

His tone was different when it broke into her thoughts.

"Try again, Jennifer."

Did he not hear her the first time? No, he must have. But then why was he making her repeat her request? Did he want her to take it back? Pretend she hadn't asked? Was he just trying to torment her?

Suddenly she got it.

"I'm asking for one last time, sir."

Another agonizing moment of silence. Then, "Leave the door unlocked." The phone clicked, and she knew without looking at the screen that he'd hung up on her. It was an infuriating habit of his that always drove her crazy, but in this situation she wasn't entitled to criticize. All that was left to do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Anyone new to this chapter may wish to check out the warnings at the start of Chapter 1._

* * *

Jen was not good at waiting. She never was, and the farther she ascended in the agency the fewer occasions she had to do so.

She didn't know where Jethro had been when she phoned, so she didn't have any sense of how long it would be before he arrived. She was very jittery, and it occurred to her to pour herself a drink of something to calm her nerves, but she wanted to be mentally alert. Letting go of her need for control was not something she did easily, and afterwards it was going to be important to know that the decision to be so vulnerable had been completely conscious and not influenced by alcohol. Furthermore, she wanted to feel everything that happened to her, and to remember it clearly when it was over.

Jen wandered over to the window and observed the dark empty street for a few minutes. The lights of a car turned the corner and she jumped sideways to be out of view, not wanting him to know that she was watching for him. The car drove past her house without slowing down, and she felt ridiculous at her reaction. She had, after all, invited him over. Of course he would expect her to be waiting for him. But he didn't have to think that she was so eager. And the last time was so long ago, and now she was his boss, and this was all terribly confusing.

The study. She would wait in the study, maybe even get some work done. She could use the distraction, and anyways it wasn't like she didn't have a stack of files waiting for the director of NCIS to approve, reject, analyze or process them. A sense of purpose flowed through her, re-establishing her sense of empowerment. She strode into the room and sat behind the impressive desk, drawing a file off the top of a pile to read. Putting her glasses on and opening the folder, Jen felt as though the director's position had been draped around her shoulders again like an overcoat. She knew how to play this part. Now she just hoped that she remembered how to play the part that Jethro would be expecting.

* * *

"I wouldn't have thought it was that long, Jen."

Jen jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn't heard him enter the house, and now he was standing casually in the entryway to the study.

"It wasn't that long, Jethro. I just figured I'd use the time to get some work done. Being the director of a large federal agency is a bit demanding of my time, you know." She heard the cheekiness in her own voice, and knew that it was part instinct and part nervous energy.

"I wouldn't have thought that it was long enough for you to forget the rules."

The rules. Of course she hadn't forgotten the rules. But maybe she'd thought that things would be more lax tonight, that she'd have more control. No, that hadn't been what she'd thought, or what she'd wanted. Not that she knew exactly what she wanted. Nothing was clear to her, except for the incredible need she'd felt to relive the experience she remembered when she saw him again. But now she was in turmoil, simultaneously wanting to back out, to submit, and to push the limits of Jethro's boundaries for her.

She would not back out. They wouldn't have this chance again. But she didn't have to make it easy for them, either.

Jen removed her glasses and placed them carefully on the desk, and then stood up, knowing that she should have been waiting for him in this manner to begin with. She smiled at him coyly and waited.

"In front of the desk, Jennifer."

Nothing to hide behind. Even in all her clothes she felt exposed when she moved to face him in the center of the room. His eyes had that effect on her – that intense gaze which was never cold or angry, just…all-knowing.

"Is that better?" she asked lightly.

"Your infractions are piling up tonight, and I've only been here for three minutes."

Her stomach flipped at the word 'infractions'.

"Maybe you were right. Maybe it has been too long." As she said this Jen wasn't sure if she was teasing him, or giving them both a way out.

Gibbs approached her slowly, holding her gaze until she felt compelled to look away. He positioned himself at her side and spoke in a low voice.

"Tell me why you asked me to come here tonight, Jen."

"You know why."

"That's not the why, Jen. That's the what. I know _what_ you want from me. But if we're going to do this then I need you to tell me _why_ you want it."

"Does that matter?"

"A great deal, Jennifer."

She couldn't tell him. It was too hard to speak any of these things out loud. She just wanted him to do what he used to do, to give her what she craved, and not involve her mind in the process. But she knew he wouldn't let her get away with that.

"Do you have an answer for me, Jen, or do you need to stand in the corner for awhile and think about it?"

She felt her face flush with heat.

"No."

"Again, Jennifer."

"No, sir." she replied, finally finding her voice in the role.

"To which question?"

She suddenly realized that she didn't actually know and turned to look at him guiltily. "I'm not sure."

"Then I think that five minutes facing the wall will do you good."

She nodded shakily and obeyed his instruction. It was almost a relief to have a few moments to herself, with the blank wall instead of his piercing eyes in front of her. Jen heard him leave the room and make his way upstairs. It made her nervous to have him up there alone, but she was also glad to have the brief freedom.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus her thoughts. Why _had_ she invited him tonight? Why had it suddenly become so imperative? This was more than a need to have a last fling with an old lover. In fact, the urge had started weeks ago, initially as a dull yearning that she couldn't articulate. Only when she came face to face with Jethro did she recognize what the ache was inside her, and how she needed it to be fixed.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and then he was back in the study. She heard him open and close a drawer in the desk, although she couldn't tell if something had been taken out or put inside.

The voice came from directly behind her when he spoke. She shivered from the unexpected proximity and cursed his stealth.

"Turn around."

She took a deep breath and then followed his instruction.

"Why did you ask me here?"

"It was just a bit of…nostalgia, I guess."

"Don't lie to me, Jen."

Jen started to compose a clever retort, but lost her nerve and avoided his penetrating stare.

"Are you ready to be honest about what this is about, Director Shepard?"

Jen looked up sharply, unable to cover her startled reaction at hearing him use her professional title. How did he always know?

"I'm going to be a good director, Jethro."

"Yes, you are." He let her use of his name slide, seeming to know that she needed to say it here.

"But…"

Gibbs waited silently for her to continue. When she didn't volunteer anything, he prompted her.

"But what, Jen?"

In an anguished tone she blurted out, "What if something goes wrong? What if it's my fault?"

There it was. She'd said it. She'd been a senior agent before, wielded authority and power. But never before had so many lives been ultimately in her hands. She'd never been the final link in the command chain. Jen had spent her whole career preparing for this responsibility, and it was one that she wanted, that she'd pursued. Yet suddenly the enormity of what she was in charge of seemed positively absurd. Jen realized that it was this fear that had compelled her to dial Jethro's number tonight.

"Things are going to go wrong, Jen. And sometimes it's going to be your fault."

"I know." The anxiety in her voice was apparent.

"It doesn't make you weak to admit that."

Jen didn't believe him, and she knew he could tell.

Gibbs walked over to the desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out her wooden hairbrush, which he'd clearly retrieved from her bathroom earlier. He placed it in the center of the desk and then looked up at her.

"Is this what you want?"

She nodded.

"Then ask me for it."

Her throat went dry. He waited for her. Hoarsely, she forced the words out.

"I need you to spank me."

Without a word he moved to pull an armless chair to the center of the room and sat down. She looked at him with evident distress, realizing that he was going to want her to lie across his lap. He had to know that was the position she hated the most. It was too intimate; it made her too vulnerable.

"Can't I be over the desk?" she pleaded. "Please, sir?" she added for good measure.

"You don't call the shots here, Jen."

She knew that if she wanted the spanking, she'd have to relinquish this last fragment of control.

"Bring me the brush," he instructed.

Jen slowly went to the desk and picked up the brush, hesitating a moment before handing it to him.

"Take off your shoes and your skirt."

She stepped out of her heels, and felt strangely defenseless with her bare feet flat on the floor. Reluctantly she removed her skirt and placed it over the desk.

With the brush in hand Jethro indicated that it was time for her to put herself in the dreaded position. She bent forward and he helped her adjust her body to a place where she could maintain the pose. He reached for her right arm and pinned it gently but firmly behind her back.

"Are you sure you want this?"

Damn it, why did he have to draw this out? Why did he have to make her complicit in every step?

"Yes," she whispered.

He smacked her lightly with the brush. A pause, and then another stroke, barely perceptible. The rhythm continued, with him sometimes bringing the brush down firmly enough to cause some mild smarting, but still the sensation was almost playful. It was maddening and she felt increasingly agitated.

"Harder," she said through gritted teeth.

He stopped what he was doing.

"Do you want to spank yourself?"

Oh, he was so infuriating sometimes. All the time, really. But Jen also got the point he was trying to make.

"No, sir."

"What did I say before about calling the shots?"

"That I don't."

"Right. So let it go, Jen."

She realized that her whole body was tensed up, and that she was clenching her fists. Jen made a concerted effort to calm her breath and her muscles. He resumed spanking her, and this time she settled into his legs and tried to just absorb what was happening to her. Again he started out slowly and gently, but before long the intensity and pace of the blows increased. The initial sting gave way to a consistent burning, and she heard herself whimpering in response to the unrelenting strokes. Soon he was laying into her with full force, making it impossible for her to muffle her gasps of pain. Finally she cried out and surrendered completely to the flood of emotions. When at last the spanking stopped she was only aware of her own sobbing, and then of his arms wrapped around her body.

He helped her sit up and she continued to cry for awhile with her head on his shoulder. Eventually the tears subsided and she was left feeling spent but tranquil. She hadn't even realized how tightly she'd been wound since taking on the director's post, but now that the vise grip was released inside her she was conscious of how much easier it was to breathe.

At last Jen felt ready to talk. She raised her head and grinned at Gibbs.

"You're very good at that, Jethro."

He smiled but didn't reply.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"I've missed you, Jen."

She was taken aback by the sincerity of his answer.

"I've missed you too, Jethro. I've missed…this."

"It doesn't have to be the last time, you know."

She wished that were true, but she knew the reality of their lives would get in the way.

"It does, though. It would get…complicated."

"You like complicated, Jen."

She laughed. "Not this much, Jethro."

"Well, I guess you'll know where to find me if you change your mind, Madam Director."

She slapped him playfully on the arm, and secretly wondered if she'd ever take him up on that offer.


End file.
